I first wrote this story in 1988, after spending two or three years working part-time in radio and wandering around aimlessly through life, like most of my friends from the college radio station seemed to be doing.

This isn't the best piece of writing I've ever done, but it does accurately represent my mindset at the time, and all the events herein are true to the best of my recollection.

Jay Gleeson is on the phone, and he's telling me that he bought the new Grateful Dead single. Maybe because it's on gray vinyl, or because he likes the song, it's hard to tell with Jay.

I didn't want to talk to him again. I've never liked him, and the other day I tried to desert him on the road about four miles from his house. The only reason I called him this afternoon was because my father told me he called. Probably it was Jake. Or maybe it was no one.

I went out with this pregnant girl this afternoon. She called me at the radio station I worked at. She sounded cute. We sort of drove around for a while, and then I took her home. She says she'll give me all her paychecks. I don't know why.

I realized the other day that I don't have anything in common anymore with the people I thought were my friends. Maybe I'd like them to leave me alone, and I realize that they did that a long time ago but I keep bugging them and they wish I'd go away, and like I always do I tell myself that I won t call Steve or Craig or Jake or anybody anymore because I'm just a pest to them.

I'll probably call them all tomorrow.

It's three in the morning, and I'm in the Spa City Diner with Eileen. I'm not sure why except that I got out of work at midnight, and she did too, and maybe she's the only friend I have left.

I realize, while watching her eat a grilled cheese sandwich, that I don't really like her, but since we hang out sometimes, we know a lot about each other and the people we used to hang out with. We used to spend a lot of time just hanging out, at school or whatever.

It seems like these days no one wants to hang out.

It's like a little after 7 at night, and I'm in the kitchen pouring myself a cup of soda. There are no glasses except the dirty ones in the dishwasher, so I get a coffee mug and pour some diet cola. I hear Pat Sajak in the living room, entertaining my parents. They're easily amused, I guess.

I sigh as I come into my room. There's a pile of clothes on the floor, but somehow I don't have the strength to pick them up and put them in the hamper. There's one black sock on the floor and I try to remember if it's clean or dirty. It's all alone in the corner, like everything that's either completely clean or dirty.

I sit on the bed and think about calling Jerry, because I miss the old days when we were pals, or something like that. Then I sigh dramatically, and put on a Peter Gabriel CD as I realize that if I call his sister Amy might answer, and I'm scared to talk to her because she blew me off big time when she started going out with Elliot.

It's almost 9, and I'm really bored, and I have to go to work soon, so I call Craig, just to say hi. He tells me that he and Sean and Steve came down to Saratoga for the afternoon, they had a great time. I don't ask why they didn't call me, even though I live 5 minutes from Saratoga. I don't need to ask. I look at a picture of a girl on one of my stereo speakers, and realize that I lost her phone number and that she wouldn't talk to me anyway.

It's almost 11, and I'm driving to work. My eyes want to shut, and I wonder if I'll make it to work without having an accident.

I'm halfway there when I realize I forgot my tapes, and I'll have to listen to bullshit country music all night.

Maybe I'll give Jake a call.

It's almost 7 O'clock in the morning, and I'm standing in the pet food aisle of the Price Chopper on Glen Street in Glens Falls. It's Monday Morning, and I'm talking to Jerry Bennett, who I haven't seen in ages.

Actually I haven't seen him in about a month, at a party at this guy Sean Hardy's apartment. I guess it was a party. Jerry asks me what I've been doing, and I tell him I'm writing a book, and I have a photocopy for him to read. He grins, feeling the thickness of the envelope, and asks me about work. I tell him I hate working overnights, and he grunts and repeats the sentiment. At least I work in radio, he says. Yeah, I tell him. I ask him what time he gets out of work, and he tells me in a few minutes. Since I haven't seen him in so long, I ask him if he wants to go get some breakfast when he gets out.

He says no, and continues straightening out cans and boxes. Then his manager walks by, and Jerry makes a joke I don't understand. Jerry looks at his watch, looks at the ceiling, and straightens some more. I begin doing the same, just because I have nothing better to do, and I might as well help Jerry get done.

There was a time once, that Jerry probably doesn't remember, when he said I was one of his best friends. We used to go to school together, and when I lost my license, he would drive about 35 miles out of his way to pick me up. When his car broke down, I gave him rides, but it was on the way for me, so I guess that makes him more noble, or at least me less.

It was actually a lot of fun, driving to school with him. He's one of the most likeable, conversational people I've ever known, and not one to make judgements on people like everybody else I know, me included. Me especially.

In the winter, we'd drive up Route 4, and I could never figure out how he could drive so fast and not lose control. I never worried that he would lose control, like I would with anybody else. I guess Jerry Bennett's the only person alive that I really trust. I'm not sure why.

Jerry and I get done straightening the aisle, and he pulls off his apron as he tells me that there's somebody in the back I should see. I have a pretty good idea who it is, but I go anyway.

I hesitate at the door because it says employees only, and Jerry gives me a look like, come on, will you? I go in.

It's this guy Rod that I used to know from school. Kelly always had a thing for him, and I could understand why. I've never known anyone so young to give off such a self-assured image. When I got to know him better I saw it wasn't really a reflection of who he was, but it's still there. He was handsome in an older kind of way, and dapper, if you can use that word without getting laughed out of town.

Now the Rod in front of me is a working man, and you can tell he works hard at the store. There's muscles I don't remember him having, and he looks bigger, more imposing, than I thought he could look. I always liked him, but he realized what a dick I was long before anybody else, and tried to avoid me. Don't blame him.

He hesitates a second when he sees me, and then he says my name, but I can tell he couldn't remember for a moment. For some reason this pleases me.

I make small talk for a second, and then turn away. He doesn't want to talk to me, and there's no reason to stretch this out. I don't blame Jerry for getting us together. He didn't realize we kind of don't like each other, even though I like him. Jerry starts out the door, and I follow him.

We stand in the morning sun by our cars. Mine is a beat up Ford Tempo, and his is a Honda that he bought from this guy Russell we know. He shows me the new blue light on top that his girlfriend Tracey bought him. He makes me get in to hear the new stereo he bought from somebody at work, and I say why don't we go to breakfast again. He thinks about it a second, and we go across the street to the Friendly's. I let him drive.

We order our breakfast, and talk about people from school. He asks me about Jake, and Steve, and those guys. I tell him whatever he wants to know.

I don't ask him about his sister, which I really want to. We used to be friends. I don't ask because I figure he'll tell her I asked.

I don't tell him about the scene in the book where she goes to my funeral.

I figure if I accomplished anything by that I'll know soon enough.

We talk about Craig at some length, and Jerry says all he needs is his Mets, his beer and his pot. I don't defend Craig, although I want to. I guess it's sort of true, although we all need our Mets in our own ways.

I pay the bill, and tell Jerry he can pay next time. I figure there probably won't be one for a while. He tells me there's a fire company bazaar in Fort Edward next week, and I should come. I lie and say I will, although I guess he knows I'm lying. I think I might go.

It's 7 O'clock at night, and I'm in the empty living room of these girls I know, Abbey and Christine. They just moved in with two other girls, although they aren't home.

There are three chairs at an old table by a window, and a black and white TV on a rickety table at the other end of the long room. We sit at the table, and Chris flips through the copy of my book I brought. Abbey and I talk about Pat, her old boyfriend and a former friend of mine. Our friendship sort of fizzled out when we both realized what dinks we are. Chris starts to talk, and I'm glad because I have a hard time talking to Abbey, which sort of makes me feel guilty. Abbey used to call me all the time when she lived in Albany, and I used to be really bored with the details of her life. I guess it's important to her. I haven't seen Chris in a long time because she's been away at college, although I'm never sure if it's Plattsburgh, or Rochester, or some place else. She went to ACC for a while too. She slept with Pat while he and Abbey were dating, and Abbey was in Colorado. Kind of funny they would still be friends.

I sort of ignore Abbey and talk to Chris, and eventually we eat some lasagna that was heating when I showed up. It's hot in the apartment, and Chris is sweating and complaining that it's hot.

Abbey has to go to work at three in the morning or something, so she goes in her room for a while, and Chris and I sit On the broken couch and talk about the old days, and the parties and stuff. We talk a little about Pat, and it's good to talk to her again. I forgot that I used to call her all the time and talk about my problems. She's a good listener, and I like her a lot. I was drunk at a party once, and made a half assed pass at her. She had the sense to ignore it, and we stayed friends. I leave when Abbey comes out wearing a Walkman, and listening to Sally Jesse Raphael. I tell Chris I'll call soon, and Abbey says she wants to think of a good problem to call Sally about. I can't think of anything that isn't sexual, so I leave.

All problems are sexual.

It's the next night, and Chris and I are in the apartment talking. I brought her up some tapes, a U2, and Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon.

It's still ungodly hot, and I ask her if she wants to go to the movies, although I worry she might think I'm making a pass at her.

We decide to see this movie Robocop, although it's mostly my decision, because she doesn't care what we see. On the way in the theatre, I notice she seems happy to be with me. I wonder what the real reason is, and think maybe she's been smoking pot or something.

So we're standing in line, when I hear, "I loved your book," coming from behind us. I can't imagine they're talking to me, but I don't see anybody else who's an author, so I turn around, and it's Jerry's sister Amy. She's with Elliot, who ignores me like he always does even though we used to hang around together and he used to give me rides home all the time, when I lost my license.

Amy tells me she was surprised I didn't make her out to be a bitch, and I mumble something like why would I do that. The actual reason is she wasn't one when I wrote most of the scenes she was in. I just sort of went back and added that she was with Elliot. When I originally wrote it, she was my friend

As Elliot hugs her from behind, I think of a dog scent marking it's territory, and try to ignore them. Elliot will probably yell at her for talking to me. I never figured out why he hates me, only that I hate him too and I probably wouldn't mind if he died tomorrow. Except that it would hurt Amy, and even if she hates me I still care about her so I guess Elliot must live or something. This is the stuff Chris and I talk about when we go into the theatre. She can't believe the two of them are going out. I'm glad it happened in a way, because Chris is the person to talk to about it. We talk about it, and her broken romance, for a while, and then she goes to the bathroom. To do drugs? I wonder. I hate myself for wondering, and know it's not true. I worry that she'll hate this movie, because I know she might not like the gory parts, and it barely made an R rating instead of an X.

I'm relieved that Amy and Elliot go to see Revenge of the Nerds. I wonder if they came to see Robocop.

The movie is kind of gory, and Chris gasps the first few times, but it's also funny, and she laughs, and we have a good time.

I'm relieved again when I see that Elliot's car is gone when we get out.

I stay in the car when we get back to the apartment, and feel kind of guilty about it, but I don't know what else to do.

I tell her I'll call her soon, and I mean it.

I'm standing in Lisa Jackson's kitchen, and I still can't believe she's getting married.

Lisa is this girl who used to go out with Jerry, and I got this call last week that she was getting married and I was invited. I wasn't home when they called, and whoever it was left that as a message. It was kind of surreal.

I drive up to Glens Falls to get Craig, who was also a friend of Lisa's, but he didn't get his drivers license yet. On the ride down, the whole conversation boils down to, I can't believe she's getting married, man.

When we get to the house, Lisa's father greets us, and he's so drunk he can hardly stand. There are cars all over the place, and people ~ never met smile at me like we're old friends.

Craig smiles at Lisa's dad when he drunkenly tells him he doesn't recognize him. I think it's kind of disgusting, but what can I do.

Somebody says the ceremony is about to begin, and Craig and I go into the living room. There's no folding chairs left, so we stand in the back of the room. As the minister begins to talk, there's a light rapping on the door, which is behind me. It's people I know, Eileen, and Rob, and Lisa Mehan, who's this really beautiful girl that Craig wanted to go out with. In fact, as I stand there, I realize that in this very living room, she made out with him at a party, months ago. It seems like years.

Lisa Jackson's sister Amy comes down the stairs in this nice white gown, and starts to giggle. I think she's stoned. Eileen asks me if Lisa looks pregnant, and I tell her I didn't see her yet. Then I tell her it's a hell of a time to bring it up. As she comes down the stairs, I look to see if she is.

It's kind of hard to tell, but her belly looks slightly rounded, and I think about all the times the two of us had lunch with the gang, or the times I drove her home, and I feel guilty for even wondering.

Sometime during the vows, the phone rings, and somebody answers it, and my head feels light when I hear a girl say, "No she's getting married right now, can I have her call you back?" And then a few minutes later it rings again, and somebody takes it off the hook, and it starts to make this loud AK AK AK buzzing noise, and somebody hangs it up again.

Then Lisa's married now, and somebody says there's a keg in the basement, and we all down there, except most of the old folks, who go into the kitchen, where there's these hundreds of bottles of expensive liquor.

Lisa's father comes downstairs.

Later that night, I'm at work. I write this letter on the word processor that says how weird it is to have a friend get married, and I can't believe I'm this old. I figure if I send it to the Pioneer, the ACC paper, they'll probably print it.

It's 9 at night, and I figure I'll stay home and watch Miami Vice, because I'm kind of beat and there's nothing else to do on a Friday night.

The show is just starting when the phone rings, and it's Pat, and he wants me to come over to this party on his street, at this guy Bob's house. I say no, and I mean, no no no. I really don't feel like it. Then Pat's girlfriend I don't like, Melissa, gets on the line, and she like starts begging me, and I can't believe it when I tell her yes.

I'm at the party five minutes when Pat asks me to drive him to the Convenient Food Mart to pick up more beer, because he's too drunk to drive. I realize that's the only reason I was asked, but I don't say anything. As we go out the door, I slip and almost fall on the stairs. I'd think it was funny if it wasn't me.

When we get back, Melissa and Pat go into the kitchen and burn some Jiffy Pop popcorn. How can you do that? They pass out bowls of burned popcorn and unpopped kernels, and save the good stuff for themselves. I go and sit in the living room, where there are still Christmas decorations hanging everywhere.

In the living room, Bob and people I don't know who look like professional wrestlers are watching this movie on the VCR. It's about hockey players and some politician gets shot or something, and somebody says you can tell it's fake blood, and I say you can always tell when it's fake blood.

Even when it isn't, I say. Nobody gets it, and I'm not sure I do either, so I sit and read the lyrics to the Bruce Hornsby album for a while, and then I go home. Nobody notices me leaving, which is what I wanted.

No, actually, I just wanted to watch Miami Vice.

I'm at this guy Russell's house at a party he's having. It's called a squirrelly-Q, mainly because he barbecues squirrels and similar small game. I drove up with Lisa, and I also picked up Jake on the way. We arrive about three, and Eileen and Craig are sitting on the front lawn drinking beer with Russell's sister, Russell is out, they say, although they don't say where. Craig says where's Steve, and I remember I was supposed to pick him up, because it's a long drive to Hartford, where Russell lives, and I was elected one of the taxi-drivers, like I usually am.

On the way we stopped this little yellow store near Jake's in Fort Ann, a I picked up two four packs of wine coolers, as well as some potato chips and stuff. Before I went in, I pumped five dollars worth of gas. Just before we leave the store, I remember that I ~ paid for it, and I almost say something to the clerk, but change my mind when I realize it's like getting free gas or something.

We get to the party, and I go in and tell Steve I forgot to get him, and he's royally pissed. Well, I can't fucking remember everybody, I think, as I apologize and feel a little guilty. I go out to the front yard after giving him directions, and open a wine cooler. I'm halfway through shotgunning it when Craig says something funny and most of it comes out my nose. I feel like a real jerk and open another one.

All of a sudden I've had like five or maybe six of the things, and I've only been there about twenty minutes. Time starts to float together, and after a while, Steve Cole shows up. He's wearing this really ugly Hawaiian shirt he has, and sweat pants or something. I can't remember exactly the course of events, but I know Craig started chasing Eileen around with a squirrel carcass, and she was screaming, and Lisa wasn't too thrilled either. And when the squirrel was cooked, I was drunk enough to actually try it, at least until I noticed it had hairs still on it and I wanted to throw up.

When Eileen went to get more beers, her car wouldn't go, and I ended up driving her and Lisa home, but I left Jake so I guess it evened out in some ways. I made Eileen drive to Saratoga because I was still drunk, and when I drove home, I wasn't sure if I was sober or not and I worried the whole way that I might not be.

It's a lot later, and I'm standing on the beach in Lake George. I'm with Craig and Uncle Joe, and we're waiting for the movies to start, which they won't for another hour. So we came up to the lake, where there's not a lot to do, so we look out on the water, and Joe tells us that if you throw Alka Seltzer to the seagulls, they'll eat it and explode.

Craig wants to go buy some Alka Seltzer and see if it's true.

A few nights later, Christine and I are eating dinner in the Ground Round. Both of us are 21 but neither one drinks. She tells me she's decided that she doesn't want to smoke pot anymore. I believe she means it.

It's the fourth time in my memory that I can recall her saying this.

It's two in the morning, and I'm calling the police. Bill Lee came to see me at work, and told me a homosexual made a pass at him when he hitched down the Northway. He was bored and decided to stop by. He's drunk, and complaining about something about his life. I tell him it's his own fault. He's about to leave when I get really frustrated with him and throw something at him. We fight for a while in the radio station, and finally I kick him out and lock the door behind him. I worry that he might get in through the back door. He knows the combination. I call the police from the newsroom, and on the police scanner hear that he's doing the same thing from the phone booth across the street. He's drunk, I'm sober and at work. They'll believe me.

They do.

I'm driving my mother's Ford Tempo down the Northway at 55 miles an hour. On the seat beside me is Amy Bennett, Jerry's sister and probably my best friend in the world.

Amy and I have known each other less than a year. We met at a party at the apartments across the street from ACC, and have gotten along rather well since then.

When I first met Amy, I wanted to go out with her. She is, after all, a very attractive young lady, even if she is only 16. Much to my dismay, however, she was only interested in me as a friend. In time I have learned to deal with this, and it's okay. I care a lot about her as a friend, and I don't imagine, as we drive towards Saratoga, that she and I will ever be anything but the best of friends.

By the end of the day, events will have been set in motion that will make that completely impossible.

It's a cold day in April, and most of the snow is gone. That which remains is mostly on the distant mountains. Amy and I are coming from saying our goodbyes to a mutual friend, Karen Dietrich, who for some reason which eludes us both, has chosen to join the Air Force. I think she's nuts. Amy and I thought it might be neat to surprise her, so we just showed up at her house in Hudson Falls. We were told that we "Just missed her," and that she might be at the new Ames Store opening up down the road. Amy and I went there, and not finding her anywhere around there, drove around a while looking for her car, a yellow station wagon with WGFR bumper stickers on the back.

While we drive pointlessly around Fort Edward and Hudson Falls, Amy reads from an edition of the Weekly World News, probably the slimiest of the tabloid papers published in this country. Amy reads aloud a story about a pet ferret that chewed off a baby's face, and I'm laughing so hard we almost run off the road.

We resume our journey, and cruise past the Dietrich home once again.

There, in the driveway, is Karen's car. We stop and get out.

While we sit with Karen in the living room, her Dauchshound continually tries to hump my leg. Karen is embarrassed, and I'm not so thrilled myself.

We're there maybe a half hour, and that's all there is. We hug, kiss, the usual goodbye stuff, and we leave.

Somehow I don't think I'm going to miss her as much as I thought.

So then Amy asks if we can go to Saratoga to see Eileen, who's working at the Triangle Deli on Broadway. I say, sure, why not.

Mistake of a lifetime.

I should have suspected it, or at least expected it. Months ago, in my journal, I even said it probably should happen. Some predictions should never be made.

So, there we are in the deli. Eileen is wearing a large silver cross that belongs to Elliot.

See, Eileen wants to snake Elliot, so he lets her wear his cross instead.

We're sitting there talking, mostly Amy and Eileen, and I sort of mind my own business.

Until I hear Eileen say, 'I guess I should give this to you now, huh?"

She means the cross. Amy ignores the statement.

I don't.

Immediately, I make the connection that Amy and Elliot are going out or something. Why can't I be stupid?

The problem is, I'm right.

And for reasons that are never entirely clear to me, my friendship with Amy Bennett is over forever.

I'm supposed to meet Linda Burlingame at the mall at 7, and we're going to go to a party at Abbey Reardon's together.

Abbey is this girl who used to go out with Pat O'Farrell, one of those people who used to be a friend of mine.

So I get to the mall about 6:45, and I figure maybe she forget so I try Linda's house from a payphone, and her little sister, who sounds just like Linda only younger, tells me that Linda went "Down to Saratoga to see my mom."

I'm like, ARRGHHHH.

I was just in Saratoga a half-hour ago!

I tell her thanks, and hang up. More bullshit.

I go back to the mall at a few minutes after 7, thinking maybe this seeing mom thing was a cover.

It wasn't.

On the way out I see this black tee shirt hanging up at one of those stands in the middle of the mall. It's all black, except the middle, which is a yellow oval with a black bat in the middle, like from the Batman show, only Batman's shirt was gray.

I drive past a Mobil Mart on the way to Abbey's, and stop to see if they sell Wine Coolers along with all their soda.

They don't, and on the way out it makes sense to me that a gas station doesn't sell alcohol. I decide to go to the Stewart's on the corner of Abbey's street.

They sell beer, but no Wine Coolers. It pisses me off, because I have no intention of going somewhere else, and now I have to drink beer if I'm going to drink.

I pull up outside Abbey's apartment building, and I see Abbey and some girl I don't know trying to lift a full keg out of the back of Abbey's car.

I offer to help, and the girl I don't know, whose name is Rosemary, and I try to lift it

The motherfucker is heavy. Too heavy. I tell Rosemary that I had a hernia last week or something, and don't think the thing is going anywhere. Abbey goes up the street, in what is not a classic great neighborhood, and finds these two guys who look like they could finish off the keg by themselves.

They lift it easily into the house, and I carry in a large bag of ice.

Inside the apartment, there isn't much furniture, but it's a big place and I figure it should be a good party, even though I'm pretty pissed about Linda and Abbey keeps asking me where is she and I finally tell her that it has to do with someone being in an insane asylum, which is basically where Linda's mother is. Abbey doesn't press the issue, which is good.

Abbey taps the keg, and offers the two guys cups of beer. The cups are the kind you can get from Minogue's Beverage Center, for 8 dollars you get ten thousand or something like that.

The two guys leave as Abbey gives me my beer, which is cold, and I notice Rosemary for the first time.

She's no beauty queen, but there's something very attractive about her.

I realize that she reminds me of this girl Kim Kloss, who was sort of Eileen's stepsister once. She and Jake had sex once while Jake was at work at WBZA, and it lasted about 30 seconds if the legends are true. Kim was really cute and sexy and she knew it. I sucked her toes once after getting really drunk at Eileen's. Kim ended up treating Jake really bad, and she sort of disappeared off the face of the earth eventually.

Rosemary and I sit on the poorly constructed chairs at the table, and while she does her nails, she asks me about working in radio, and I ask her what she does for a living. She tells me that she works at the Spencer Business Institute in Schenectady. I ask her what she does, and she tells me she's a teacher there. I'm amazed at that, because she can't be older than 23 at the most, and I doubt even that.

Most of my conversation with her is pretty insipid, actually, just basic party chatter, me talking about radio and her teaching. Of course, she is also concentrating on applying three coats of something that smells acrid onto the backs of her fingernails, which serves to distract her. The edge of sarcasm we both add to the ambiguity of male-female angle of the exchange may save the entire evening, if it continues with other people.

I can sense that to her as well as me, this evening is nothing if not a carefully, convincingly built parody of a party.

Before anyone else arrives, Abbey and Rosemary get stoned in Abbey's room. They ask me if I want to.

I say no and put on a tape of Jim Morrison reading poetry.

Not long after, Abbey and Rosemary come out of the bedroom, and Abbey changes the tape to the B-52's, and the sounds of Planet Claire ("I know she came from there...") fill the apartment. I think of Claire Garnsey, this girl who used to hang out with Abbey and Christine Gates and Kelly. I always think of her when I hear this song.

We used to call her Pumpkinhead.

I try to remember why. I think it was my idea. Isn't everything?

I'm sitting back at the table, and Rosemary and Abbey and I are working on the beer when this guy with a short haircut and blond hair comes in. His name, I'm told, is Chris. It occurs to me that it could be strange to have two people both called Chris at the same party when one is a guy and the other Christine Gates. Or any girl for that matter. Chris is wearing shorts and this shirt with three buttons on the front. He tells Abbey that he is driving, and he doesn't want any beer.

Which he drinks, when she hands it to him.

Abbey is dressed in these boxer shorts, with this pattern on them that looks like a tablecloth from the Ward Cleaver household or something. She asks me if I like them, and I can't help but laugh. She asks me if I hate them, and I tell her no, through barely restrained amusement. She goes in her room, and comes back in this pink shirt that's too big for her. It looks pretty cool, and covers the shorts some, so I tell her I like them and even ask her where she got them. She tells me she got them at Penney's on her charge card, and I call her Plastic Abbey. I tell her Plastic Abbey Scares Me. She lightly slaps the side of my head, and in an age old maneuver invented by Chris Gates to annoy the living piss out of me, she says, "Oh, Alan."

On the shirt's open collar she wears a little Batman pin she was given by deadheads down in Albany. I tell her about this shirt I saw in the mall, and she asks me if it's queer or if it's cool. I tell her it's cool, and she says, "Oh, cool, I gotta have it."

She goes to get more beer from the keg in the bathtub.

She tells me that last night one of her roommates, Laurie, who is working tonight, "Did some guy in the shower." She says that the guy was a scumbag, and that since Laurie is gross, she was not thrilled by using the shower.

I seem to remember Craig telling me about a party at Rod's where she and Pat went in the bathroom together, and there was soon thereafter the sound of running water. I guess that's different.

I get another beer.

Two more people arrive, a couple. Abbey tells me they've been going out for two years or so. I notice they have actually started to look alike.

Maybe they always looked alike.

They seem pretty boring, the kind of couple that come to parties and sit by themselves in an obscure corner. They haven't started that yet, and there's only six people there, so I sit with all of them and act interested.

Actually it's not that boring.

Before long Jay Gleeson and Tiffany Banker and Dave Vandenburgh arrive.

They are all ACC expatriates, except Dave who's going back in the fall. Maybe

Jay is too, I can't remember. I think Tiff might be too. How many beers have I had?

Anyway, Jay hands me this tape he made of a Doors video, and I talk to him and Tiffany a while. Dave sort of listens and laughs. Once in a while people come in, and before I know what's happening it's a party.

A whole bunch of girls arrive, all about 17 or 18, and most of them start to dance to the Duran Duran tape I put in when the deadheads weren't looking. I kind of like the fact that nobody changes it, and I take a couple of pictures of the girls dancing with Abbey's new camera.

"I charged it."

I later write a poem in Abbey's honor called "Plastic Abbey."

She scares me.

Craig arrives a little while later, and I show him to the beer. We stand by the entrance to the kitchen and talk about why Steve is called Meatpud. Rosemary seems slightly interested, which I guess means the party is kind of boring. In the empty living room, a girl in a green blouse and tight jeans is scarf dancing to Tears for Fears song Shout. Someone turned off the tape and put on the radio. Amusingly, it's a station I used to work at.

Craig gestures at the TV set, and I see Dave is doing something to it. We go over, and I see he's adjusting the horizontal hold so it will roll in time to the music.

It would seem stupid if there weren't a roomful of people watching in mute fascination.

This guy comes in, about 3 feet high and 8 million pounds of muscle, and no neck, and Abbey hugs him like he's her long lost brother.

He's wearing a tee shirt advertising some bar in Lake George. On the back it says, "Party time is any time; any time is party time."

Uh huh.

Jay starts quoting Jim Morrison, so I get another beer.

Steve shows up sometime later, and Rosemary calls him Meatpud, and Steve tells me he'll kill me someday.

Eventually Jay and Tiffany leave, because she has a curfew or something, and Dave asks me if I'll take him home to Stillwater, which is like 30 miles out of my way.

I tell him no.

And of course I do it anyway.

Steve and Craig and I all leave at the same time, although we all have different cars. On the way out, Abbey says for me to call her, and she kisses my neck.

I kiss hers and walk out the door.

Plastic Abbey.

Because I like her.

It's 9 o'clock at night, and I'm home, and I'm a little drunk in my room, and I start to feel really depressed about Amy blowing me off. I pick up the phone and dial her number. It occurs to me that Jerry might answer. Amy does. We talk small talk for a moment, and real obvious she doesn't want to talk to me. I say something harmless about Elliot, and she says, "Oh, do you want to talk to him? He's right here?"

I'm not surprised, but I am more sorry for myself. I had hoped that maybe we could be friends again, but she makes it clear that that isn't going to happen. I should just hang up, but I get on the phone with him, and he's sarcastic and obnoxious, and I hate him for being who and what he is, and I wish that things were different, and he hangs up.

I drink some more, start to cry and write a letter that I throw away as soon as it's finished.

I should do that more often.

I stay out real late Thursday night and when I get home I decide to call in to work the next morning, and get some sleep instead. I call and say the car had died. They seem to believe me. I worry about a bank loan I applied for, because they want a 500 dollar down payment, and I don't have it. I sleep heavily.

The next morning, a friend calls from work and tells me that my boss not only doesn't believe my cheesy story, but that he thinks I don't want to work there anymore.

I guess he's right.

I sit in my room and type and wonder what I'm going to do now. And this time, I don't think there's any easy answers.

Maybe all problems aren't sexual.

The End